Love Song
by fiesa
Summary: Sometimes, it strikes her out of the blue. OneShot- Kiki, Obi (Mitsuhide). A conversation. (All the things we do not say.)


**Love Song**

 _Summary: Sometimes, it strikes her out of the blue. OneShot- Kiki, Obi (Mitsuhide). A conversation. (All the things we do not say.)_

 _Warning: This turned surprisingly dark and angsty._

 _Set: Story-unrelated_

 _Disclaimer: Standards apply._

 _Written after reading the Vol. 14 Extra ("Sir Mitsuhide's Uncomfortable Night"). These small extra chapters… I adore them. :)_

 _Prompt by Cherrypop0120, so this is for her. And for anyone who loves Kiki and Mitsuhide._

 _Merry Christmas 2016! I apologize for the angstiness in this one. Hopefully, the next one will be sweeter._

* * *

The sun is low, almost disappearing behind the soft line of the trees of the forest. It is curious, Kiki still thinks this after seven years, how both forest and hills and the ocean can be seen from the castle's windows: two worlds. And, in their middle: Castle Wistalia.

Obi almost disappears in the dappled shadows the leaves cast on the ground, his dark hair and sun-tanned skin not standing out against the background. He is sharpening his daggers, idly, and watching Shirayuki grooming the plants in the small garden that has, inexplicably, become _theirs_. Kiki likes it. It is a bit secluded and yet open, full of sun and light, and the sweet scent of the wisteria that covers the trellises and the castle's walls can still be smelled back here.

Shirayuki's laughter is sweeter. Her hair mingles with Zen's golden one, and Kiki thinks-

"What do you think love is, Miss Kiki?"

She almost does a double-take and forces all expression from her face. "Excuse me?"

The shinobi actually repeats his question, his expression not wavering at all. She cannot see whether he is making fun of her or asking seriously, and, if, what his intention is. What he wants to hear. What he expects her to answer.

Kiki just looks at him. "Have you fallen in love with someone?"

He actually laughs. "Miss Kiki, with the number of hearts you have broken already I don't think you have the right to pity whomever falls for me."

"I do not break hearts."

"Oh, you don't intend to, but you might as well give up on hiding behind your armor and your sword. Men like strong women, you know."

Her glance makes him stop, but he still continues to chuckle to himself.

"You know it's true."

"I never cared for something like that."

"Which is why the heartbreak among the soldiers isn't as bad as it would be if you showed even a modicum of interest – in any one of them. Oh, Miss Kiki, don't pretend you don't notice. Neither you nor I are naïve enough to fool ourselves."

He leans back, carefully inspecting his daggers and judging them fit. They disappear in his sleeves and in the small pouch at his belt. Leaning back, he looks at her, his eyes twinkling.

"So what do you think love is?"

Not: what love is _like,_ but, _what love is._ Over the years, Kiki and Obi have developed something like a tentative friendship. She trusts him. They are similar, in certain ways. Silent, efficient. Their humor is compatible, as are their reasons. And both of them possess a streak of ruthlessness: they go to lengths to protect those they have vowed to protect, no matter the consequences. They are alike, him and her, and maybe that is part of the reason and part of the excuse, and part of why she trusts him with those that are most precious to her.

Maybe that is why she answers him.

""Love is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times.""

The wind picks up. The scent of the wisteria is intoxicating. Zen stumbles over the basket Shirayuki placed on the ground, and she checks him for scratches while he apologizes profusely. Kiki feels the by-now familiar, heart-wrenching sensation of _I do not want to leave this place_. And Obi does not answer for such a long time that she thinks he might have forgotten, or, more likely, chosen to let it drop. But then, he speaks again.

"Mitsuhide said the same."

There is not much that surprises Kiki nowadays, but this does. She blinks at the other man, confused. "He did?"

Obi nods cheerfully. "Have you not discussed this before?"

Of course they have not discussed this before. It is one of the many bullet points on the endless list of innumerable things they do not speak of, one of the myriad issues they silently skirt every day. Every hour, minute and second. One of the things that make them leave their shared palace wing separately in the mornings. One of the things that has Kiki never ask about the women she sometimes sees him with; one of the things that makes Mitsuhide return from every trip to Celeg in a worse mood than ever. One of the things that fill up the room when it is only the two of them, growing louder and louder and louder until there is nothing else she can hear, see or even feel. Nothing, not even her heartbeat, nothing except for the unsaid words piling up between them.

 _all the things we do not say_

But Heavens, how she _wants_ him. She wants him so badly she could die.

"No."

"Coincidence, then?"

"What else?"

Obi shrugs, lets one thing go in favor for another. "Do you remember what you told me once, Miss Kiki?"

She remembers everything. Maybe that is the problem, maybe this is her curse. "No."

The glance thrown in her direction, accompanied by the amused smile, is enough to let her know she is not the only one she is not fooling right now. "You said that it is impossible to love people without losing a part of yourself."

"So?"

"Is he still too afraid to sleep in the same room as you?"

That he knows does not even provoke surprise in her. Obi knows everyone and anyone. There is a steady stream of soldiers arriving from and leaving again for Celeg. One of them was bound to have seen, or heard, and of course Obi would find out somehow.

"There is a difference between fear and consideration."

"There is a difference between self-protection and self-deception." He echoes her tone.

Words, words, nothing but words. The unsaid, the unspoken, only-thought-of words: they forever will be her downfall. Maybe that is why she loathes them so. Why she prefers her sword to her lips; would choose a fight over a debate. Her father used to talk to her, for hours, explaining things, telling stories. Urging her to learn, both from his experience and from his example. Kiki learned to hate those hours, the long, winding stories, the hidden messages, even some of the expressions her father used repeatedly. It is not as bad as it was, though. She and her father have formed a tentative peace, him holding back on occasions, her acting more tolerant towards his lessons. In truth, Kiki has learned the value of the spoken word when she met Zen, and he has helped her come to appreciate it. For this – and for everything she is – she will be eternally grateful to him.

"And you think you are in the position to be telling me this?"

Kiki states it calmly, but she sees the sudden ghost of pain flit over Obi's face. She opens her mouth to apologize but the sudden shadow is gone again, disappearing as quickly and completely as it has come. _Different_ , she thinks, deliberately. _We are not the same._ But, who knows: maybe this, too, is just a lie she tells herself to justify her own inertia.

"I seldom think, Miss Kiki, we both know that, at least."

"I know you are deflecting."

His grin is lazy, but there is more to it. There always is, is there not? The world is a place with so much to see, and even more that remains hidden. She should know, Heavens know she is hiding enough herself. "I am a shinobi. Deflection's my job."

Shaking her head, she wonders how they switched back topics so quickly, how they came back to their usual banter. And Obi seems ready to let it drop, but she cannot quite yet. She refuses to ponder over what it means, exactly: that she is unable to forget anything that is connected to Mitsuhide, just as she is unable to move forward.

 _(The way he looked at her when she opened the door, his hair still dripping and smelling of soap. The way she could feel his presence, their shoulders only separated by a few centimeters of air and cloth. The way his voice wavered when he said good night. She remembers all of it: his eyes when he watched her laugh. The_ things _in his eyes, the sentiments–)_

She has to change the topic. If she does not, she will regret it.

"Have you lost anything?"

Obi's smile does not falter. "I think I have gained something, actually." And suddenly his smile is gone. "What part of yourself have _you_ lost, Miss Kiki?"

Kiki does not even need to force her own smile. "That is the question, is it not?"

 _No._

It is not the question, not at all. This is her mask, her self-taught deception, the smile behind which she hides everything and nothing. Lady Katherine Seiran knows, with earth-shattering security, that there is nothing of herself she is losing while staying here, while remaining at Castle Wistalia for Zen's and Shirayuki's sakes. But every day, every hour and every heart-beat she is losing something equally precious, something so important to her it makes her freeze on the inside. Mitsuhide slips away from her bit by agonizing bit, and already he is so far she cannot remember why they separated in the first place.

 _(Except that is a lie, too.)_

Obi shifts, shrugging, shading his eyes to look over at the castle.

"So from what have you been quoting, then, Mitsuhide and you?" He asks, brisk and teasing once again, getting up from the ground and dusting off his back. It is his specialty, these fast, confusing changes of topic, and Kiki is insanely glad for it just now.

"I don't expect you to recognize the author."

"Hey," he protests, mock-hurt. "I'm not a complete illiterate, you know."

She throws him a glance, one of those filled with utter disbelief which she usually reserves for her partner. The only reaction she gets is his laughter.

"Your doubt wounds me, Miss."

"What is Kiki doubting?" Mitsuhide asks, and they both turn towards the direction of the voice. Mitsuhide is standing behind them, she has not heard him coming. Obi, on the other hand…

"She doubts that I can eat a triple helping of the extra-spicy stew the cook is preparing for dinner today…"

"There's stew for dinner?" His eyes meet her gaze and he smiles; friendly, warm, unsuspecting and _familiar_ , and Kiki just rolls her eyes.

Sometimes, it hits her out of the blue.

Sometimes, when Mitsuhide says something particularly intelligent, or particularly outrageous, or especially kind. When he taunts Hisame, subtly, oh-so-subtly, and manages to beat the vice commander. When he looks at her in a particular fashion, or when not even the rain manages to flatten his spiky hair, when he behaves in a certain way or does something particularly stupid.

When he walks next to her, like this, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes.

When he reprimands Zen and reminds him of his duties.

When he smiles at Hisame, all teeth and no trace of the kindness she has come to associate with him.

Sometimes, Kiki just looks at him and kind of randomly thinks: _I love you._

She loves him so much she wants to cry

Only that somewhere along the way, in between their duties to Zen and their love for him, they made a mutual, silent vow. _Wherever you go-_ There is a difference between reality and wish, both always knew it far too well. They maneuvered themselves into a corner. And now, when Kiki looks at Mitsuhide, she sees something she always wished for. And in Mitsuhide's glances at her she feels his dread, his suppressed longing, and they both know-

What do they know, actually?

Nothing, because there is no solution to their stagnation, no progress to their inertia. Neither one of them is prepared to take the first step. It has everything to do with the precious children in front of them, and everything with their happiness.

And, perhaps, also with their own, wordless terror of moving forward.

Mitsuhide knows her. He reads it in her eyes – everything they never said, all the words they never uttered – and his smile dies. His shoulders tighten and he balls his fists, and, miserably, Kiki turns away herself.

 _I love you._

 _I love you, too._

There is no relief in knowing.

* * *

They are both too stubborn for their own good, he thinks.

Obi leans back with thoughtful frown, watching the way Kiki and Mitsuhide turn from each other while simultaneously almost leaning into the other.

 _Sometimes hearts speak in such obvious ways._

He remembers a conversation, quite similar to this one, perhaps, and yet different. Like his partner, Mitsuhide is not a person of many words, either, but he lacks the fluidity and grace that distinguish Kiki's curt manner of speaking from his. His words are unrefined and clumsy, though always honest, and Obi knows what to search for.

"I am losing her. With every day that passes, our friendship crumbles more and more. I do not know what to do to save it from turning to ashes."

Uncharacteristically open, so honest, as is Mitsuhide's way. Granted, the man was not quite sober anymore when they reached that point of the conversation, but who was counting?

 _Ashes_ , Obi muses. _Fire._

He twirls a throwing knife between his fingers, watches the sunlight catch Kiki's silvery hair and Mitsuhide's dappled one.

 _Love is friendship that has caught fire._

How to help them, though, he does not know.


End file.
